Sleeping Tigers (11 page)

“You should take her to a doctor. Has she had all of her immunizations?”

Nadine snorted. “Like I’ve got the money for doctors, either.”

The baby started to fuss. Nadine continued to sit there, oblivious to the piteous cries. I finally took the child out of the swing, wrinkling my nose at her rank smell, and eased myself down to sit on the big rock next to Nadine.

I had expected the baby to reach for her mother, but Paris wrapped her skinny arms around my neck and pressed against me, curving herself around my breasts and shoulder and hanging there like a purse, heavy and damp. If she’d had such a chaotic existence, I supposed it was possible that Paris hadn’t ever bonded with her mother; maybe at this point, the baby figured that one pair of adult arms was as good as another. Or was she just not old enough yet to care? I didn’t know much about babies, only mouthy fourth graders.

I patted Paris’s bony back awkwardly and let her dig her toes into my thighs. The combination of the shock of seeing Cam’s child, the rancid stink, and the baby’s tight grip on my neck was making it hard for me to breathe.

“Look,” I said in my sternest, no-nonsense teacher’s voice. “Don’t you dare leave California without giving me time to talk sense into my brother. He’ll come around.”

Nadine’s eyes were gray, and she had the steely, flat expression of someone used to bargaining with whatever scraps she had. In this case, her highest card was my apparent interest in the baby. “I guess I could wait around some,” she acquiesced slowly, “if only I had a little cash to, like, tide me over, maybe buy us a little food and pay for a doctor.”

I eyed her suspiciously. “You know, you could always take Paris to an emergency room. They’re bound by law to treat anyone who walks through the door, no matter how poor.”

“Yeah, right!” She rolled her eyes at this. “Those fucking Nazi social workers would take my baby away before I could sneeze. Shit!” Nadine reached over and stroked one of the baby’s legs in a hypnotic way, her fingers tracing the curve of Paris’s skinny calf. “She’s a little monkey face, isn’t she?” The baby grew heavy on my shoulder as she sank into sleep, her cheek sticky against my neck.

I felt stunned, almost immobilized by the weight of my brother’s child. “All right,” I said at last, looking Nadine in the eye. “I’ll give you some money if you promise to buy food and stick around here for at least a couple more days.”

“What else would I buy?” she said, pouting in a way that almost made her look like a normal teenager.

After counting out the bills in my wallet—over seventy dollars–I took a scrap of paper and a pen out of my purse and scribbled my name, cell phone number, and San Francisco address on it. “This is where I am. Please. Don’t just take off with the baby. We have a deal, right? I’ll work something out with Cam. Can you meet me here tomorrow at the same time?”

“Yeah, okay. That’s cool.” Nadine wadded the paper into her jeans pocket along with the money and plucked the baby out of my arms. Paris’s head snapped back and she let out a startled yowl. My skin burned a little where the baby’s head had rested against it. It was all I could do not to snatch the child back.

“Take it easy!” I said, alarmed. “You’ve got to support her head better than that.”

Nadine slung the baby over one shoulder. “Don’t get your panties all in a bunch, now.” She grinned. “I’m a pro after seven months of this motherhood crap.” She nodded at me as she stood up. “Come on, Baby,” she said to Paris, suddenly cheerful. “We’ve got places to go and people to see.”

She disappeared like a deer, noiselessly sliding into the shrubbery behind the boulder and leaving me feeling wounded and bereft.

Chapter
six

F
urious at my brother, I drove back to Cam’s house, but it was locked up tight and the van was gone. Where had they all gone? Having another lie-in? Cavorting on skateboards?

No answer on Cam’s cell, of course. There seemed to be no choice but to go home and think things through. I was suddenly exhausted, and I could hear my bed calling me from across the Bay.

I made my way back across the Bay Bridge into San Francisco, let myself into the apartment, sent Cam a text, had a good cry, and fell asleep with a pillow over my head. I woke to the music on my cell phone—a Bollywood tune–and snatched the receiver off the cradle, willing it to be Cam returning my call.

It was my mother and she was on a roll. I carried the receiver over to the refrigerator, where I listened to her rant while I pulled a hunk of cookie dough off the store-bought log on the top shelf and poured a glass of milk. Mom was still going off on me for not calling as I flung open the French doors to the garden and, munching doughy goo, dragged myself out to the deck.

I sat cross-legged in my private square of afternoon sunlight until my mother finally inhaled. The gist of her tirade was that she was worried sick. First Cam disappeared and now me, how could any daughter of hers be that thoughtless, etc. Highway accidents, city muggings, apartment fires, earthquakes: her only daughter could fall victim to all that and more.

“Sometimes I think you left home to escape reality,” she accused finally.

“Mom, believe me. I’m wallowing in reality,” I assured her. “But you’re right. I should have called. I really am sorry. How is everything?”

“Oh, status quo. Status quo.” She covered the phone receiver on her end and spoke in a muffled voice, presumably because my father was somewhere within earshot. He had probably told her not to call me. “Have you talked to your brother?”

I gave her a brief sketch of Cam’s job, house, and roommates but left out any bits about meth addicts and babies. Still, my mother knew from my voice that something was up. She started fishing for clues.

“Has your brother been in an accident?” she asked. “Is that why we haven’t heard anything? I worry about that boy’s reckless driving.”

“No, Mom! Cam doesn’t even have his van anymore. The engine gave out when he took it down to Mexico.”

“Mexico! You can catch diseases in Mexico!”

“You can catch diseases anywhere, Mom,” I said patiently. “Anyway, Cam’s using public transportation these days, so you don’t need to worry about his driving.” I refrained from mentioning her son’s new passion for night skating.

“Is he involved with someone? Is that why he hasn’t called?”

“Kind of. But you know Cam. It’s nothing that will last.” I gulped down a chunk of cookie dough with the white lie. “He has a job, though. That’s a plus.”

“I’m sure he’s still in debt,” my mother snapped. “That child never could manage money. Honestly, Jordan, I wish he’d been born with half your common sense.” She sighed heavily. “What about his health? Is he eating enough? He isn’t still on drugs, is he?”

“Mom, will you stop? Cam’s health seems fine. In fact, he went swimming at the beach when we were there this morning.”

“You’ve actually seen him! Oh, Jordan.” My mother was crying in that way that people cry on the phone when they don’t want the person on the other end to know. She was breathing fast,
huh huh huh
, like a stubborn lawn mower engine that won’t catch.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Of course not!” she spit out. “God, Jordan, you’ve no idea what it’s like to be shut out of your child’s life.”

“Please, Mom. Try to relax. Cam will be fine.” Of course I could convey no specific assurances; I didn’t quite believe, myself, that my brother would be fine. But there was no point in worrying my mother. “He’s just, you know. Asserting his independence.”

Bad choice of words. “Why would your brother want to be so independent that even his own mother can’t reach him?” she demanded.

“You know what Cam’s like,” I said helplessly. “He’s always been evasive. Hey, where’s Dad right now? Can I say hi?”

“Oh, he’s out.” Her tone was dismissive.

“Out, where?”

“Watering the roses, weeding. It’s Sunday, you know. Yard work day.”

I knew from her suddenly distracted tone that my mother was probably checking out the window to see if my father—a barrel-chested ex-Army captain who owned a machine shop–was still outside. I pictured Dad as he always looked in the yard: his forehead sunburned, the v-neck t-shirt slightly yellowed from sweat, the determined look on his face as he held his weekend showdown with the overgrown grass and weedy edges of the lawn.

Dad was apparently out of earshot. Mom’s voice relaxed, turned more conversational. “So how’s your apartment?”

“A postage stamp with a bed in it,” I admitted. “But I’ve got a great garden.”

“And you’ve introduced yourself to the neighbors, I hope?” Mom’s theory was that tragedies could happen to anyone, but mostly to people who didn’t mind their manners.

“Oh, sure. I’ve met everybody in the building.” Not that anyone wanted anything to do with me, but I didn’t tell her that. “And Karin had a party so that I could meet some of her friends,” I added, knowing my mother would seize on this as evidence that her daughter wasn’t friendless out here in the Wild West.

“You know, I should come out there,” Mom proposed suddenly. “I’d love to see your apartment and Cam’s house. I can stay in a hotel if you don’t have room for me. Or maybe Cam could find a place for me in his big house? I’ve never been to California,” she added, sounding wistful. “And you see so much of California on the television. The palm trees, the beautiful mansions.”

“What? You can’t do that! Anyway, that’s Los Angeles you always see on TV.”

“Of course I can come if I want,” my mother countered. “I could leave tomorrow, get on a plane and be there in six hours. I’m sure you could use the help getting unpacked and settled.”

I glanced around my apartment and its sparse furnishings. I’d unpacked the boxes, hung towels in the bathroom, and put sheets on the bed in less than an hour’s time. What could my mother find to do here? Put plastic on everything, crochet a lampshade or two?

Her visit could potentially throw a wrench in the works before I’d gotten Cam to admit he had a new obligation in his borderless life, that’s what she could do.

“This really isn’t the best time,” I said gently. “Why don’t we talk about a visit next month? By then, I’ll know my way around. Besides, Dad wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I’m sure he’d manage,” she said stiffly.

My mother, whose longest solo voyage to date was a bus trip with her sister to Atlantic City the month after Grammy died, had never flown on a plane. I tried to imagine her on one, offering coupons, tissues, aspirin, gum, and hand cream to the businessman or college student trapped in the seat beside her. Mom would knit fruit-shaped hats out of the yarn she carted about in her knee-high flowered bag. She would make friends with the flight attendants, too, quizzing them gently about their children and face creams. The fruit hats would be handed out to anyone with babies: blueberries to the newborns, strawberries to the older babies, watermelons to the toddlers, each hat with a green stem on top. Picturing Paris in one of those strawberry hats made my head pound with anxiety.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad idea,” I amended to avoid bruising her feelings. “I just think we ought to wait until later in the summer.”

“Well, it was just a thought,” she said. “Forget I said anything.”

Perversely, I hated to hear my mother sound so easily defeated. “I’ll talk to Cam,” I said. “We’ll come up with a plan to see you soon.”

We hung up with promises on my side to call her daily, and then I dialed Karin’s cell. “Can you meet me for dinner at the Church Street Cafe?”

“Sure,” she said. “Give me ten.”

I walked the five blocks to the cafe, where I bought an uninspired chicken sandwich and chose a high table near the window. Karin arrived minutes later. She had put her hair up in a neat French twist and was wearing her nurse’s uniform. The blindingly clean white dress on Karin was like seeing a push-up bra on a nun, given her housekeeping and party habits.

Karin spotted me immediately and plopped down in the free chair, picking up my sandwich and taking a bite. “So what’s up?” she said, chewing. “How’s it going with Ed?”

I was about to answer, when something stopped me. I don’t know what it was–the uniform, the hunch of her shoulders, the overwrought makeup– but something felt off. What was going on with Karin? And why was she asking about Ed again? I’d already told her about his striptease and me chickening out of the final act, then skulking home.

“We saw a movie a few days ago, but I haven’t talked to him lately,” I told her. “Are you going to eat something besides my sandwich?”

“I don’t know.” Karin waved away the fronds of an enormous fern hanging in the window above her head. “You need a damn machete in here,” she said. “So tell me. Did you turn Ed down out of panic, or because you really meant no?”

I rolled my eyes. “When have I ever been smart enough to do anything deliberate in a relationship? Nothing happened because I didn’t want anything to happen. Not that night, and not when I went to the movies with him, either. There’s no spark! Which is fine, believe me. Don’t feel bad about it. I’ve got other things on my mind, actually.”

I waited for her to ask what those things might be, but Karin took another bite of my sandwich and said, “I’m not at all surprised that Ed tried to hook up with you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be, since you practically shoved me out the door with him,” I pointed out. Then it dawned on me. “You two had a thing, didn’t you?”

Her face clouded. “Long, long ago, in a place far, far away.”

“When and where?”

“Three years ago in Marin. Ed had a houseboat there. He built it himself,” she said with pride. “He’s really clever with his hands.” She winked at me. “But you knew that.”

I touched her arm. “Drop the jokes. Why didn’t it work out? What happened?”

Karin’s eyes brimmed with tears, blurring her liner and only making her look more exotic. “Ed’s the marrying kind. I’m not.” She blew her nose noisily into a napkin. “Plus, Ed’s much nicer than I am. He deserved better.”

“Stop it. You’re the nicest person I know.”

To my surprise, Karin began crying harder. “It’s nothing to do with you and Ed, this breakdown,” she said when she could catch her breath. “I’m really happy for you two.”

“You’re clearly not listening to me!” I said. “Ed and I didn’t even spend the night together. Nothing happened between us! He’s a nice guy, but not my type. Now what’s giving you the breakdown? Wally?”

At the mention of her boyfriend’s name, Karin scowled. “I’ve had it up to my neck with that toad.”

“Are you going to break up with him?” I asked in surprise. I hadn’t seen this one coming. Then again, I seemed to have completely lost the ability to see what was careening around the corner and crashing into my own life, never mind beyond that.

Karin blew her nose on a napkin. “I already did. This morning. He’s history.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. “Well, are you sorry?” I ventured. “It didn’t exactly seem like true love. Whenever I saw Wally, he was in a crappy mood.”

“That’s his M.O.,” Karin said. “Much cooler to be a moody man than a cheerful one, right?” She sighed. “Wally will go down in my Lovemaking Hall of Fame, if only for that time we did it in the shower and the glass door broke and we kept right on, just threw a towel over the mess so we could finish. But whenever I tried to talk to him about my feelings, he started tossing out one-liners like a stand-up comic.”

“You’d be better off with a dog,” I comforted her. “At least a dog would stay home at night and wouldn’t joke about your feelings.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t know why I’m so upset. I’m the one who kicked Wally out. I guess I’m afraid I’ll end up like that woman.” Karin nodded toward a middle-aged, big-bottomed woman huddled over what appeared to be an entire head of lettuce on her plate. “Always asking for a table for one in restaurants.”

“You won’t, though.” I took Karin’s hand in mine. “You’ll always have me. We can have a table for two.”

Karin suddenly looked contrite. “Jordan, what kind of friend am I? You’re the one who called me. You sounded upset. Did you see Cam? How is he?”

Now it was my turn to break down into a pile of napkins as I told her about meeting Cam on the beach, having brunch at his house of crazies, and tracking down Nadine and the baby at People’s Park. I couldn’t help but be vaguely aware at the same time that I was becoming more Californian by the minute, with this level of public confession. Ouch.

“I can’t believe I let that girl take off with the baby and a fistful of cash,” I finished. “Do you think she’ll head north before I talk to Cam and find her again?”

Karin frowned. “I don’t know. But do you really think you can convince Cam to get involved with the baby? I know your heart’s in the right place, but he’s such a perpetual adolescent and always broke besides.”